


Healing Wounds

by Ribbonshalos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dealing with issues, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, pharah is angry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:53:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonshalos/pseuds/Ribbonshalos
Summary: When she walks in with an eyepatch and a wrinkled grin, he goes to the woman who was there during his younger years, guiding him down the right path. He feels comfort within her worn limbs, but finds the air heavy as Pharah passes by both of them without a glance.





	Healing Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> McPharah Week — Day 3: Wounded

Ana Amari is alive, and Pharah is the first one to find this out. A letter, written in their native language, still sits in her bag. They both come to Overwatch, only shortly after he. It’s a miracle, and a sharp reminder of the others they’ve lost. Reyes and Morrison are still dead. Ana says nothing about them.

When she walks in with an eyepatch and a wrinkled grin, he goes to the woman who was there during his younger years, guiding him down the right path. He feels comfort within her worn limbs, but finds the air heavy as Pharah passes by both of them without a glance.

He finds her later, in the training room punching away at a bag. No longer the young girl that ran around causing mischief with him, he silently holds it for her. Only the echoes of fist hitting hard fabric echoes for some time. Anger and energy stirs against his skin, a physical force he’s not sure how to approach.

After a solid punch that pushes him back, he says, “I glad to see you again, Fareeha.”

Bunched fists lower as sweat glistens on her worn brow like a sparkle to her skin. There is no joy, or content at the new Overwatch or him. Her eyes hold him for eternity, brown irises carved into an energy that pierces though his soul.

She is here because she wants to do good. He is not so foolish to believe she is completely at peace with everyone and everything they’re doing, but she is a force of nature. Great things can only happy in her hands, whether good or bad.

After a slow breath, she says, “Me too.” Quiet, withdrawn, before she takes her leave.

Pharah interacts with Ana in a strict form of tight hellos and tense conversations that turn into shouting matches the moment the door is closed behind them.

He does not blame her for her fury, but there is little room for total understanding as he has lost so much already. Ana lied, and disappeared when they needed her most, but he is no better. Heaven have mercy on his soul if Pharah found this out, but he condones Ana the smallest bit.

He did the same thing she did, after all.

Forgiveness from Pharah seems like a far off notion, especially now that she stands at his height and sees the world beyond the safety of her childhood. She is a woman now, the fear of him seeing this more than anyone else scratches at the back of his skull. From the way her shoulders lean with her walk to the dark hair brushing against her cheeks, she is all too close to his attention.

Yet, he has the nerve to want to be near her, when he’s just as guilty as the woman Pharah is most angry at. Her wrath is looming just over the horizon, and his sunny day will be darken by her justified anger. Her presence means too much for it to not affect him so greatly.

After a week of hearing the arguing and tight stares from both Amaris, he untucks his tail from between his legs and decides to bite the bullet.

He finds her in the training room again, knuckles wrapped and ready. Lifting her head at his entrance, the heavy look upon her face shifts into a cold stare as she watches his boots step across the floor mat.

“Fareeha,” he speaks, holding back a plea.

“Jesse,” she acknowledges stiffly.

Fingers tense nervously as he braces himself and finds his tongue. This will not be pretty, but he will face the storm before it barrels over him.

“I’m sorry.”

She stills, fists loosening as the armor drops from her being. When she lets the cold anger leave her, a glimpse of shimmering sadness shrouds her eyes and makes her lips part with exhaustion.

The anger explodes into a bomb fire.

“I needed you,” she begins, hot and barely contained with thick emotion. “I needed Mom and I needed you. She died. She was dead. I buried her in an empty box and took her badges home.”

He knows. Fareeha was almost finished with her military training when Morrison broke the news. Ana, the woman who taught him how to shoot better and how to make tea was suddenly gone. That was one of the first things in the arguments Morrison and Reyes had, about how Ana died.

The funeral was viewed from a distance. His own grief made him watch Angela wrap her arms around Fareeha as Reyes and Morrison made their own consolation to her about her mother. Angela was always better at comforting than he, but in that time, he couldn’t stand in front of her and say nothing. His throat was close and his eyes were open like rivers swelling in the spring.

That was his first wound against her.

“Then you left.” Her accusations bites through his ribcage like a rabid dog, but it is only from the truth. Her hard gaze and bared teeth help hold back the shimmering in her eyes.

“I tried to find you, but you didn’t even care to cry with me. Every time I tried to contact you, Gabriel or Angela told me you couldn’t talk. After a few weeks I figured out you left Overwatch, and then it all gets destroyed before I even have a chance at it.”

Her voice cracks, and she closes her eyes for one moment. Wrapped knuckles strain against her skin as she curls and uncurls her fists. Anger washes away into quiet showers along her cheeks. The first drop of rain runs down her skin like a lost stream before she wipes it away.

“I needed you.” She says, looking to him with everything he’s done.

“I couldn’t…” He stops, refusing to be weak again. “I couldn’t face ya when I couldn’t even look at yer mom’s grave.”

She still holds him in the eye of the storm, heavy clouds keeping back dark rain.

“I wish I was a better man for ya, Fareeha.” His own truth breaks his throat and trails out of his lips like a broken song. “I couldn’t help yer wounds while mine were bleeding.”

Her dark eyes see him for the first time as the mess he’s always been. Blinking slowly, she heaves her shoulders through a hard breath.

“And you thought I wouldn’t help you with yours?” An accusation laced softly with disbelief. Her words lie in the skies now, tilting on whether to let the thunder and lightning hit his soul or for the eye to keep him in peace.

“I didn’t want ya to if I couldn’t do the same for ya.” His horrid confession.

Tightening her jaw, Fareeha wipes her cheek again, sparing him for a moment to look away.

“We’re done.” She says, breaking his chest with two words.

He parts his lips to say anything, to soften her blow but it’s not something he can catch. The past has him in its jaws, and one of the most important women in his life is suffering because of it.

“Jesse,” she snaps his gaze to his. A burning energy brightening her dark irises. “We are both done hiding from each other.”

His lungs pause for a moment.

“Fareeha?”

“Do you need me, Jesse?” She is too close now, moving like sand between stones as her eyes swallow every bit of his being. A person with the strength to crush his heart and choses to handle it with delicate care.

“Yes.” He answers. His word is as sure as the sun in the sky. A rising determination in his chest refuses to let him lose her again because of his own weak heart.

She nods, letting the dark tips of her hair brush against her cheeks. “Then there’s no more running, no more hiding.”

If he does one thing right in his life, it will be this oath to this woman.

One last teardrop marks her skin before she seals their oath with an embrace. He almost loses his breath as her arms wrap around his shoulders, her cheek tucking against his shoulder as his hands find her waist.

A warmth he never knew he craved along with the scent of sand and starflowers overwhelm him.

“I’m so angry,” she whispers against him, giving in to their quiet promise. Her words carry so much, but he is strong enough now to hold them.

“I know, Fareeha.” He tucks his cheek against the top of her hair. “I’ll be here until yer okay. And I ain’t leaving until I’ve made up for the hurt I put on yer soul.”

She breathes quietly, tightening her grip for a moment around him.

“Let’s both heal our wounds, Jesse.” A soft essence against his shirt.

He murmurs an agreement against her hair, holding onto her embrace for as long as she’ll steady him.


End file.
